


Dancing in the Dark

by macgyvershe



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dancing, Dancing Freedom, Fluffy, Freedom, M/M, Mrs H approves, slightly sexy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-07 22:12:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12241620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macgyvershe/pseuds/macgyvershe
Summary: It happens organically. It keeps getting better. It makes them happy. Knowing that dancing in the dark is freeing. They are not bound by other peoples labels or scripts.





	Dancing in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> A short fluffy, sexy, one shot, because I'm in a writing mode today. Hope you enjoy.

It was one of those slow weeks, when nothing is on. Sherlock is consigned to near terminal boredom, with no relief in sight. It was hellish, as Mycroft often stated.

John no longer worked at the clinic. Finding being at Sherlock’s side much more stimulating and more profitable as his blog brought them multitudinous paying clients. Yet it was the Yarder’s that still came up with those tantalizing cases that no one but Sherlock could solve. That was the ticket to make Sherlock happy. John expectantly waited for a case to pop up.

John did his thing. Perusing the morgue, for bits and bobs to bring home. Hoping to entice Sherlock into some research and/or experimentation. He stocked the kitchen with plenty of nourishing food. Made meals for one and a half, coaxing Sherlock to eat off his plate more times than not. John was, of course, the Sherlock whisperer. Doing everything he could to keep Sherlock healthy and relatively sane.

Luckily, Mrs. H is cognizant of the problem and went into a baking frenzy. All of Sherlock’s favorite biscuits, cookies, scones and fresh breads started showing up at regular intervals. Sherlock’s insatiable sweet tooth had a mind of its own and that is a very good thing.

Life at 221B went on and John found time to contemplate his relationship with Sherlock. He was a mad, bastard, git it was true. But he is John’s mad, bastard, git. That is also true.

Patching Sherlock up was a normal occurrence. Touching him in so many ways, in so many places. Sherlock accepted John’s touch readily. Trusting in him always. Now they touched regularly. Not glancing contact as flatmates might do. This is gentle tugs and warm squeezes. When John sat on the couch watching telly, Sherlock would always plop down; laying his head in John’s lap for a scalp massage. John, so Sherlock said, give the best ‘head massages’. More often than not, Sherlock became so relaxed that he often fell into a deep sleep. Producing tiny snoring noises that John found endearing.

John didn’t date at all any more. What was the use. Besides that part of his life just didn’t give him the comfort that being with Sherlock did.

(-_-)

“You really need some regular sexual release.” Sherlock stated conversationally as they were having tea and toast in the sitting room.

“I beg your pardon. Did I just hear what I thought I heard?” John looked up from his morning paper into Sherlock’s quicksilver eyes. Sherlock is being quite honest. He has his real face on.

“If you won’t shag women anymore, then I shall have to see to your sexual needs myself. Though I have limited experience. I have researched the process and believe that I can adequately provide for you any time that you need it.” Sherlock looked confident and secure in his chair. Talking about sex like it was a cooking class.

“You know you are quite pants at this whole relationship thing, don’t you?” John said smirking a bit.

“So you are not interested in my suggestion?” Sherlock looked slightly distressed.

“Yes. God, yes. I’m extremely interested. I’ve been interested from the start. From the very beginning.” John put down his paper and came over to Sherlock’s chair; sitting on the arm.

Sherlock places his large hand on John’s thigh. John hitches his breath and places his hand over Sherlock’s. This touch is different from any before; this touch is extremely erotic. Sherlock beams with a loving smile. It is almost childlike in its simplicity. Sherlock knows John loves that look on him.

“Come to bed.” John says the three little words that will change their whole world. Standing, keeping their hands joined, he walks Sherlock into what is now their bedroom.

(-_-)

It had been that easy. No high drama. No thunder claps or lightening bolts. Nothing that seems at all out of the ordinary. Everyone thought that they were together and then they were. John hadn’t earned his ‘Three Continents’ moniker for nothing. He was an equal opportunity lover. He had always been a love them and leave them wanting more kind of guy. Never broke a heart or left without giving going away sex that left everyone wall eyed and shagged to their core.

John loved Sherlock more than he’d loved anyone ever before. He is certain beyond certainty that he will never be able to leave Sherlock. Never.

The first time was tender and hot and oh, my gonads, memorable beyond words. Things that took many a great deal of time to acquire, Sherlock learned in the blink of an eye. He is unsure of himself for about five seconds. Then drives into each new experience with the determination and drive that made him a crack detective; now makes him a lover worthy of John’s praise and appreciation.

(-_-)

“Can we do that last one again? You know where you?”

Bonelessly, John looks at Sherlock with reverent eyes. “Refractory period, Sherlock. Remember I’m an old man. We can, and will do anything your heart desires. In a little while.”

Sherlock brings out his childlike smile. Knowing that John finds it endearing and irresistible. He’s got John’s number alright.

(-_-)

It had been the case of the century as the press had dubbed it. It had taken Sherlock nearly 5 days to get a good hook on it and another 20 hours to nip the criminal activities in the bud. Lestrade was over the moon. The press were camped out at their door and Mrs. Hudson was exhausted from taking tea to the hoards of the Fourth Estate. John is just about ready to completely have a melt down when Sherlock makes him an offer he couldn’t refuse.

“I think we should go on holiday for bit, and take Mrs. Hudson with us. She definitely needs a break as well.” Sherlock said quite matter-of-factly.

“Ta.” John shook his head in a positive manner. “Where would you like to go?”

(-_-)

The head lines read “Hat Man and Robin head for French Riviera! Taking their house keeper Mrs. Hudson with them on their Honeymoon?"

(-_-)

John had to laugh as he fell back onto the king size bed in the suite that Mycroft had provided for them. He owed Sherlock a chit or two for services rendered and Sherlock wasn’t above getting everything he thought he was worth.

“I can believe you consented to Mrs. H’s demands.” John is laughing.

“She has been the second best mother each of us has ever had and she’s worth more than either of us ever thought. Beware a woman with unlimited finances, John.”

“There is that.” John took a deep breath. His eyes challenging Sherlock to make a move.

“You aren’t really sitting there on that bed with your clothes on are you? Shouldn’t you be nude and tucked away in my arms?” Sherlock’s grin is ferocious, infectious and devastating.

John starts to disrobe. Slowly, teasingly, with his talented tongue making its sexy appearance.

“Good lord, you know how to make me hard.” Sherlock lunges at John, removing every scrap of clothing that he has on with the speed and accuracy of the lightening rod of sex that he is.

(-_-)

“I don’t understand how the whole thing works?” John lay in their well used bed. Sherlock ensconced in his arms. “When it’s two men, who leads? Who follows?”

Sherlock give a cupid smile. It lit up his face and his boyish good looks become evident. “There need not be any organization to dancing. It can be a free form exercise in movement. The music and mood can dictate the activity. Or the drum beats of the heart can give rhythm to the body. We are men of action and endeavor to right wrongs. We are not scripted by other peoples lives. We are freedom itself, John.”

John took this all in and understood the truth of it. “We are aren’t we.”

Standing from the bed, John went over to his laptop and brought up some music. It is beautiful, up lifting and begging for movement. Going back to the bed extending his hand, he bends slightly to coax Sherlock from its surface. Their hands interlaced. Their nude bodies take in the music; floating and twirling. Their naughty bits gyrate at the whim of gravity. As the sun bids the day adieu, the shadows on the wall merge as darkness falls. The music is breathtaking. Exhilarated, John and Sherlock continue on. Free, they are totally free.

Mrs. H makes an appearance at their door. Unlocked and unclosed, she opens the door a bit to view the couple dancing in the buff.

“Ah, if only I were thirty years younger and a comely man. No, no one would ever come between my boys.” Then louder so they can hear her. “Sherlock, John. Come my dears, we need to get a move on. The charity auction is this evening and I’m going to be auctioning you off the highest bidder. The Science Academy will have a car round at seven.”

Her boys stop their dance. Completely unabashed they turn toward her. “Coming Mrs. H”, they say in unison. She adores her boys. They do give a fine floor show. Not sure the rest of the world would agree, but she can’t get enough. For an old bird, she still has her guilty pleasures.


End file.
